


Storm

by Ellizia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, I made myself sad, M/M, Post - A Storm of Swords, you all know what the major character death is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 03:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18930700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellizia/pseuds/Ellizia
Summary: Loras has a love-hate relationship with storms. The reason for both the love and the hate is the same and can be easily shortened into just one word, one name: Renly.





	Storm

**Author's Note:**

> One night I was laying in my bed awake at like 2 a.m. and I couldn't get rid of the image of Loras staring out of the window, storm raging outside and being reminded of the storms in the past when Renly was still alive. I wrote this in really short time, instead of writing the essay I was supposed to write. This is not something I put a lot of effort in and is un-betad. Seeing as English isn't my native language there might be some weird things and if you find any typos or such I'd really appreciate if you informed me.

Loras has a love-hate relationship with storms. The reason for both the love and the hate is the same and can be easily shortened into just one word, _one name_ : Renly. Storms are that part of his life that is now forever closed, accessible only in dreams and memories. The now of his life is permeated with hot, shit smelling air of King’s Landing and guarding a little boy who happens to fear storms. _A true Baratheon for sure._ Renly had never been afraid of storms, he used to leave the windows open, a habit that drove the servants up the walls when they were forced to clean up the rainwater. _There is something majestic about them, don’t you think, Loras?_

 

After days of damp, oppressive heat making people tired and irritable, brewing storm had finally rolled up from the Stormlands during the night. Clouds had been hanging low over King’s Landing when Loras had woken up. Storms were rare in Crownlands and for a moment, half asleep still, he had been so sure that he was back in Storm’s End with Renly. He’d only need to reach behind him and he’d find the familiar warm, firm body, still asleep, quiet. Only time Renly had ever been quiet was when he was asleep. His black hair would be laying around his head in disarray and his face would be smudged into his pillow to stop the morning light from reaching his eyes. Unlike Loras, used to waking up early in the morning to train, Renly had never been a morning person. Had he been allowed to do so, he would’ve gladly stayed in bed long past noon.

 

Before Renly’s de- _Before_ Loras had always looked forward to a new day full of new challenges, too impatient to laze around. Now he faces the days resigned to his duty, only looking forward to the nightfall when he can return to his dreams. Whether the dreams are bad or good, it doesn’t matter. In his dreams the crushing weight of never seeing Renly again doesn’t rest so heavily on him, like a steel band tightening around his chest, making breathing painful.   

 

And so Loras laid in his bed, staring out of the window even when he was fully wake. As long as he didn’t look behind him, he could imagine Renly was just still and quiet in his sleep, not still and quiet beneath the ground. But he couldn’t stay there forever. Loras had gotten up and reality had come crashing down.  His bed was empty and Renly was dead. Never again would he feel his warmth against his skin, the thrill and comfort of his touch. Never again would he hear Renly laugh, the sound of his voice never failing to lift Loras’ spirit, no matter how foul his mood. Never again would his warm breath ghost along his neck as they drowned each other in pleasure. Tears he wouldn’t shed had burned in his throat and his heart had thumped heavily, painfully in his chest.

 

The skies had opened in the late afternoon, thunder crashing and rain flooding the streets of the city. The buzzing of the city had died down as people had flocked inside to their homes, taverns and brothels. People were unused to rain and their young king was afraid of the sound of thunder. Most of Loras’ day had been spent watching over Margeary’s attempts to distract the boy from the storm. _A storm lord afraid of storm._ Renly would have probably enjoyed the irony.

 

Night has finally fallen and White sword tower is quiet as is Loras’ room. Not the good kind of quiet but the kind that leaves too much room for painful thoughts that fill Loras’ mind. He stands by the window, watching as the long awaited rain washes away dust and shit that covers the city. Loras feels cold. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with the rainy wind blowing in from the open window, soaking his ckin and clothes. This cold comes from the inside, mixture of grief and pain and loneliness that seems to haunt his every waking moment.

 

Storms are a painful reminder of happier days in Storm’s End. He used to sit in the windowsill of Renly’s chamber, watching as storms rolled form the Narrow Sea. When he had first arrived in Storm’s End as a boy of ten the raging storms had scared him. Not that he would have ever admitted it out loud. One night Renly had found him awake and, instead of laughing at him like Loras had expected- Renly had laughed at everything though it was never mean spirited- he had told him about the Storm kings of the old, Durran Godsgrief who had wed sea god’s daughter and the seven castles he had raised. Renly had assured him that surely a castle that had withstood the wrath of the gods and stood for thousands of years could handle the storm.

 

Later as he grew older, stormy nights were often spent in Renly’s bed taking a full advantage of the roaring winds and thunder drowning out any and all noises they could make. Renly had liked to leave the window open and when they’d later lie quietly together, sated and sleepy the air would cool down their sweaty skins. If Loras concentrated he could still hear the quiet _thump thump_ of Renly’s heart in his ear as he rested his head on his chest.  The thought of never hearing it again is almost unbearable.

 

But as much as the memories hurt, Loras would rather die than let go of his pain. The pain and the memories are all he has left of Renly now. That and the green velvet cloak fastened with golden stag brooch. It had been one of Renly’s favourites. Sometimes when Loras buries his face in it he can still smell a faint scent of what was purely Renly. But that faint scent is fading, already at least partly only a product of Loras' imagination. Loras glances back towards his bed. He should sleep. Maybe the sound of thunder raging outside would carry into his dreams and bring him back to Renly.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'll just leave this here... Sorry.


End file.
